


Clockwork

by rosalynbair



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Arranged Marriage, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Cheating, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Infidelity, Mentions of War, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-12-16 19:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11835951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosalynbair/pseuds/rosalynbair
Summary: Armitage Hux runs the family business of making clocks. He’s strict and to the point, until someone comes into his shop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy! I was watching Disney short films the other day and I came across Tick Tock Tale (it’s on Netflix in the Disney collection) and the shop owner reminded me so much of Hux that I just needed to write this.

Armitage Hux was a man of routine. Ever since he had graduated university, he had the same routine every day. He would be up every morning at five and have his cup of coffee. He would dress and prepare himself for the day. At seven in the morning, he would turn on the lights to the shop and unlock the front door. For the rest of the day, he would design and work on new pieces, helping customers occasionally or taking custom orders. At six in the evening, he would lock the door once more and return to the apartment above his shop to have dinner and read the paper.  
There was never any stray from his strict routine, he set out a specific day each week to get groceries or other supplies, and on Sunday, he would go out for a stroll in the nearby park.  
Armitage had had a rough upbringing. He always had what he needed to survive, nice food, good clothes, a very nice house in which he lived with his father, step mother, and the nanny. Back then, his father had run the shop, that was long before the upstairs was converted into a bachelor apartment. He had never been able to make his father, the ever so strict Brendol Hux, proud. He did not love his father, but he did not hate him.  
His father had taught him the values that he now held in his every day life. He taught him the value of having structure and routine. He was an only child, but he was not doted on. He was expected to be independent. Even though he had a nanny, he was required to spend time on his studies, learning mathematics and different languages. Armitage was an illegitimate child. He was the mistake that came from his father whoring around. He had never met his mother, and he never let it affect him. His stepmother was a kind lady, but she lived and breathed for her husband. He never had any affection from anyone as a child.  
His father knew he needed to let Armitage take over the shop, but he waited until it was absolutely necessary to do so. The shop was left to Armitage in his father’s will. Brendol Hux died while his son was away at university. The shop was closed until Armitage decided to come home. But even then, he did not return to the lavish house where his stepmother resided. He hadn’t spoken to her in years prior to his father’s death. He refused to return to the house he grew up in. So he lived above the shop, finding solace there. It had been mostly used for storage before he took over, but now it was a small apartment with an orange cat roaming around.  
Armitage never thought of love, or marriage. To be quite honest, he didn’t believe in them. He did not mind that the business would end with him, and he did not care that he was the last with the Hux name. He was the only one who could carry it on to an heir. But he never thought of children, messy little things they were.   
He never thought of romance, until he met you.   
You came into his shop on a dreary Wednesday morning. It was late autumn, the view from his downtown shop covered in bright oranges and yellows. The sky outside was cloudy, overcast from the previous nights rain.   
You walked in, head ducked as you stepped over the threshold. He looked up when the small bell rang, you were in a light beige dress that went just below your knees, flowing around your legs delicately as you moved. You wore short heels, comfortable enough to walk in, but nice enough to be seen as professional. You had on a tan coat, the hem falling to right above your knees, the buttons closed and the belt tied. Your hair was pinned into victory curls, a small hat adorning the top of your head.  
You looked up, making sure the door was closed. Your face had very minimal makeup on it, something that Armitage admired, many young women were rebelling against their mothers and wearing far too much.   
“Good morning” Armitage said, looking up from a clock with stuck gears, a small tool in his nimble hands.   
“Oh, good morning” You reply, a slight blush raising to your cheeks.   
“Can I help you with anything?” He asked, and you look around, slightly flustered.   
“Oh, well, yes. Um.” You say, your cheeks growing redder “I, I’m looking- well. My father, he is a tall man, very slender for his age. He has dark hair and tan skin.”  
“I apologize miss, I have not seen anyone of that sort” Armitage told you, picking his small screwdriver up once more.  
“No! I mean. I’m sorry.” You tell him “I’m looking for a gift for him. He collects watches, you see. And I am not at all familiar with this type of thing. His birthday is soon, and I have left his gift to the last minute. Do you have anything that might help?”  
Armitage sets the screwdriver down, standing up and adjusting his dark green sweater. He walks over to a small counter display, facing her from the opposite side of the counter.  
“He collects watches you say?” He asks, seeing you nod, he gives a professional smile. “I would ask for more details, for example, what brands he has, mass produced or custom pieces. But you say you do not know much of the sort.”  
“That’s right. My brother understands watches and clocks more than I do. My father and him bonded over them. But my father has a particular eye for orange-brown leather…what do you call them? The bracelet part?”  
“Straps” Armitage replied.  
“Yes! Straps, and he enjoys simple things, all of his watches have clean…faces, yes?” You asked, hoping you got the term correct.  
“Yes, faces. I might have a few watches that will fit that bill” He tells you, turning away from you and pulling out a few boxes from the grid shelf behind him.   
You admired him, his tall and slender frame, the fiery hair and the pale skin. He was well dressed as well, which was something you enjoyed. And he was polite. It wasn’t often that you could go into a shop without the male owner flirting endlessly with you.  
“Here, I don’t have any light tan strapped watches at the current moment, I am waiting for a new shipment of leather. But I do believe these options might be alright.” He told you, opening the three boxes. “The first, this one is a bit older, burnt orange straps, a black face and gold hands. The second is a watch with beach wood brown straps, a white face, and black hands. This style is the most popular this season. And this last one, all black. Black straps and a black face with silver hands. Do any stand out to you?”  
You examine them, Armitage handing you them to examine. Although you were just trying to look like you knew what you were trying to do. They all looked lovely to you.   
“If it were my choice, I would pick the second, but as I am not the one to be wearing it…I do believe papa would love the first one. It’s very sleek” You say, smiling at the man in front of you.  
He nods, placing the watches back into the boxes.  
“Alright, would you like me to wrap it for you?” He asks, putting the two away and taking the one you had chosen to the register.  
“Oh yes please, I’m horrid with small details like that” You tell him “I would lose my head if it weren’t attached to my shoulders.”  
Hux nods, unable to help but smile at you. You were an interesting young lady, and you captivated him. He grabbed some thick brown paper, folding it over the small box carefully. He had never felt nervous of his work in front of someone before.   
“Oh, is that your cat?” You ask, noticing the orange tabby resting on his seat.  
“Yes, that is Millicent. She’s friendly if you would like to pet her” He tells you, glancing up.  
You smile, coaxing the cat over to you. You pick her up, scratching behind her ears gently.  
“Hello sweet kitty” You cooed, watching her eyes close and the loud purring begin. “My sister is allergic to animals, I’ve always wanted a kitten.”  
“She’s always here if you’d like to visit her. She’s often roaming the shop during open hours” He says, finishing wrapping the watch for you. You set Millicent down, smiling and handing him some money you had pulled out of your small purse.   
“Thank you sir, I apologize, I didn’t catch your name” You say.  
“I never gave it.” He says, debating on whether or not to actually give it. With a small twitch of his cheek, he opens his mouth. “My name is Armitage Hux.”  
“I am Y/N Y/L/N. It was a pleasure to meet you Armitage Hux” You tell him “Thank you very much for your help. I fear if it were not for you, I would be giving my father a badly made birthday card.”  
Armitage chuckles, watching you turn away and walk towards the door.  
“Have a pleasant day Miss. Y/L/N” He tells you as you open the door.  
“And the same to you Mr. Hux” You reply, walking out of the shop and down the street..  
Millicent whines at Armitage, and he scratches her head gently.  
“Yes Millicent, she was a very pretty girl” He tells her, returning to his seat and the broken clock. His mind never strayed too far from your smile.   
~  
It was just over a year before he saw you once more. The beginning of the war had wracked the city. It was nearing Christmas time, and service had dwindled since the men were away fighting. He stayed to help with the war effort, supplying many objects for care packages for the soldiers.   
You came in the door, looking much as you had before, yet this time, there was a sullenness to your face. Your smile didn’t show as you entered his shop.   
“Good evening Miss. Y/L/N.” He says to you, wiping his hands free of some oil he used for a clock.  
“I fear that I am a Mrs. Now” You say quietly.  
“Congratulations” He tells you, searching your face for some form of understanding. You have never strayed from his mind all year.   
“yes, thank you” You say, but it was clearly strained.   
“What can I help you with today?” He asked, trying to change the subject.  
“I wish to order a custom watch” You tell him, walking closer to the counter.  
Armitage grabs his notepad and a pencil, standing from his stool.  
“What did you have in mind?” He asked you.  
“It is a gift” You tell him “I wish for a dark leather strap, and a white face, with black hands. Could you include a moon chart as well?”  
“Of course” He says, writing down your request in neat handwriting. “When would you like it by?”  
“My husband is being shipped off in two months, I would like it by that time.” You say, watching the man in front of you nod. Your life had changed drastically in the past year. You weren’t expecting to be married, it had been thrust upon you by your mother. She wanted you to have a good husband before the war started, to secure your position in society. He was practically a stranger that you shared a home with. You knew nothing about him, other than that you did not, and could not love him.   
“If you would like to return in a few days to look at the designs that I will prepare” Armitage pulls you out of your thoughts.  
“Yes, of course. I can come back on Friday if that is alright?” You ask, Armitage nods, bidding you a gentle goodbye.  
When you left, he let out a sigh, his frustration of wanting to know more of you growing.   
~  
You returned that Friday, examining the sketches carefully. As much as you did not like your husband, It was expected to gift him something nice before his departure.   
“I like this one. He’s a burly man. It would suit him” You say, pointing to one of the designs.  
“Alright. I will begin work on it tomorrow morning for you.” He tells you.  
“Thank you” You say, leaning over the counter and placing a small kiss onto his cheek, petting Millicent before you left.  
~  
You came back to the shop two weeks later, an early Monday evening, the sun beginning to set.  
“Hello Mr. Hux” You call, walking into the shop, kicking the snow off your shoes.  
“Ah, hello Mrs. Y/L/N, what can I do for you?” He asked, coming out from a small room behind the counter.  
“I was wondering if I could see the watch.” You say, trying to hide that you had only come to see him.  
“Of course, it’s just back here.” He replies.  
You go around the counter, following him into the small room, sitting down on a stool, crossing your legs at the knee. The watch was far from complete, he was working on stitching the leather straps based on the measurements you had given to him.   
“That’s a lovely colour” You say, smiling, watching as he sits down in his chair.  
“Thank you” Armitage says, a rosiness peaking up above the collar of his shirt.  
You started to ask him about the watch, maybe to distract from the unhappiness of your life, or maybe just because you wished to learn more about this man.   
The time passed, you and Armitage had grown close. If you weren’t married, you’d ask him to court you. You hadn’t been courted by your husband, everything had been far too rushed. You genuinely enjoyed Armitage’s company. He was a very straight forward person, and you loved the heated debates that you could get into, or the calm conversations about your day.   
You wished this could never end. Even after the watch was done, you didn’t want it to be. Roger was being shipped out the day after it was done, and you were trying to find an excuse to stay around Armitage. But there was none.  
You held the small box holding the watch, staring at Armitage. It was silent for a moment before you set the box down on the counter, stepping forward, your cheeks blazing with the thought of what you were about to do. You go up on your toes, pressing your lips to his.   
Armitage was firmly shocked, he had had growing feelings for you since you returned and requested a watch for your husband. He knew he shouldn’t, oh he knew he shouldn’t encourage this type of behaviour. But you tasted too good to give up. He grabbed your hips, pulling you firmly against him, allowing him to deepen the kiss to the point you thought your lips would be bruised.  
“I wish it were you” You whispered once you pulled away.  
“What?” Armitage asked, dazed.  
“I wish you were my husband” You tell him, kissing his cheek “I wish we had had the chance”  
“We may one day. Now run along Y/N, it is growing dark out.” He whispers to you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.  
You left, walking home quietly, your lips tingling from the kiss you had just shared. This must be what love feels like. It wasn’t spectacular, but it felt so comfortable. Like sitting in front of fire with a hot cup of tea and a nice book.   
You arrived home, removing your shoes and jacket.  
“Y/N?” Roger called from the parlor.  
“Yes dear, I apologize for being so late. I had to go into town to get something” You say, walking to where your husband sat. He was an attractive man, tall, dark, handsome. But he was not your type. “I got you a gift”  
“Oh?” Roger asks, standing and taking the box from your hands, he opens it, staring at the watch “This is lovely.”  
“Do you like it? I had it custom made for you” You say, smiling weakly.  
Roger puts it on, grabbing your waist and kissing you. It was subpar. Compared to the one you had just shared with another man.   
“I am to be shipped out tomorrow” Roger says.  
“I know” You tell him.  
“I know you are not particular to it, but I wish to bed you my dear” Roger tells you, a grin on his face, seeing you nod, he takes you up to bed.  
Sex with Roger was nothing. He came within minutes, he never gave you pleasure. In fact, you were confused on why women would prostitute themselves for something so horrible and boring.   
~  
Roger had been dispatched for a month before you could no longer control yourself. You walked into the small clockwork shop, passing the counter and going to the back room, not seeing Armitage, your brows furrowed, your heart beating quickly.  
You go down a small hall, leading to some stairs. You had never been upstairs. But you needed to see him. You start up the stairs, your heels tapping the stairs, leaving a loud echo.   
“Armitage?” You called as you entered the apartment, seeing Millicent dart to you. The man you were looking for was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee.  
He looks up to you, eyes wide.  
“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asks, setting his mug down.  
“You… weren’t down stairs” You say, stepping towards him “I needed to see you.”  
His eyes travel you, landing on your left hand, seeing your finger void of the wedding ring you always wore.   
“Do you have another order to ask of me?” He asks.  
“In a way” You say, walking to him, your arms going around his neck.  
“Armitage… Armitage, I love you” You whisper, your forehead resting on his shoulder.  
“Y/N… You’re married” He whispered, his voice strained, as were his pants. He didn’t have sexual desires often, but you drove him mad.  
“I don’t care. I don’t love him. I love you.” You tell him, looking up at his blue eyes.   
His eyes flutter closed, and he leans down, bringing you in for a kiss. Revelling in the gentle moan you let out at the contact.  
“I love you, sweet Y/N, my darling” He says quietly, holding you close to him.  
“I want to be with you” You tell him.  
“I know, right now, we can be together” He says, kissing you once more.   
You whine, trying to get closer to him. You hear his chuckle, lifting you up onto the counter in front of him, deepening the kiss. His hands trailed up your sides, and then back down, he grips the skirt of your dress, pushing it up your thighs.  
“Darling, you’re beautiful” He grumbles, his lips trailing down to your throat. “Tell me, has your husband ever pleasured you?”  
“No?” You whisper, breath hitching as he reaches around you to undo your dress, letting it fall off your shoulders, revealing your breasts in the small brassiere.   
“May I pleasure you dearest?” He asks, looking at you with a look you’d never seen before.  
“Do as you will” You whisper, leaning in and kissing him roughly, yelping when he pulled you off the counter, your dress falling and pooling around your ankles. You watch as he kneels, sliding your cotton panties down your legs, helping you out of them.   
He looks up at you, his fingers trailing between your legs, the unusual wetness startling you. His fingers brush your clit, his lips curling upwards as you shiver, bracing yourself against the counter, gripping the edges.  
“Armitage? What are you- Oh!” You gasp, his mouth attaching to your clit, his hand guiding your leg over his shoulder so he could access you better “Oh… Oh that feels… marvelous”  
Armitage chuckled from beneath you, feeling your quivering pussy against his tongue. He knew very well that you had never been taken like this. He was fairly sure you had never even been wet before.   
His fingers trail up your inner thigh, ending to your entrance, and he slides a finger in, feeling you clench around him.  
“Oh Armitage” You gasp, leaning backwards against the counter. You hear him chuckle from between your legs, the vibrations causing you to let out a loud moan.  
You clench your muscles, trying to fend off whatever feeling was building in your stomach. You weren’t sure what it was, it was something you had never experienced before.   
But, with a few more flicks of his tongue, and a curl of his finger against a spot that sent you reeling, you let out a small scream, almost collapsing. Your thighs tightening around his head, your body curling over him as whatever he was doing to you became more intense.   
“Armitage… O- Armitage. Please. Please” You beg, gripping his hair between your fingers.   
He pulls away, a smirk on his lips as he stands up, holding your hips as you trembled.  
“What… What was that” You asked, gasping.  
“My dearest, that was an orgasm, something I plan on giving you many of” He whispers, lifting you up and taking you to the couch, too impatient to go to the bedroom.  
You watch as he removes his sweater, pulling his button up shirt out of the waist of his pants, he unbuttoned it painfully slow, and you watch eagerly as he removes his belt, undoing the button that held the fabric together.   
You shiver when he releases himself, his hard dick hitting his stomach as he kicks away his trousers. Armitage crawls onto the couch, nestling between your legs, chuckling as he kisses you.  
“I love you dearest” He whispers to you as he slides himself into you, hearing your whimper as he pushes all the way to the end, his hips against your thighs.  
“How do you make this feel so good?” You ask, your fingers on his back, nails digging in as he starts to snap his hips.  
“I know what you like” He mutters, letting out a shaky breath as he starts up a decent pace, your breasts bouncing with each inward thrust.   
“Armitage!” You gasp as he changes the angle of his hips, hitting that sweet spot his finger had gotten to earlier.   
“God my name sounds good on your tongue” He moans, working his body against yours “You’re such a good girl for me”  
His dominant nature was coming out, his perfect act coming undone at the seams as he pounded into you. You had expected this to be done as quickly as Roger, but lord you were glad that it kept going, the tightening returning to your stomach.  
“’Tij,” You whisper, clenching around him “It’s happening again”  
“Cum my sweet darling. Cum for me” He growls, snapping his hips harder as your nails rake down his back.  
“Oh!” You scream, your legs wrapping around his waist, his hips kept moving through your orgasm, and you felt the familiar feeling of him becoming sloppy, like all men. His movements were jagged, and he was gasping your name before he pressed his lips to yours roughly, stilling as he felt himself cum, his stream shooting into you. You squirm, giggling, breathless as you pepper his jaw and neck with kisses.  
“You’re wonderful” He breathes out, removing himself from you as he stands, lifting you up in his arms, kissing you gently.   
“I’m never letting you go” You whisper, kissing him once more.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger returns home

Y/N  
The world seems so cold without you to share a bed with. My cot is small and painful on my back – I do wish that I could come visit soon to receive a massage from your small hands. You know how much I love them. I hope the funds in our account are treating you well, I do not wish for you to develop calluses on your hands because I was not a good enough husband and did not leave you with enough to get by happily.   
Mother wrote to me recently. She said that you have not visited her in months. She is lonely, please do so at your soonest convenience.   
I have enclosed our next location, please send your future letters there until further change.   
Your husband,  
Rodger.   
Your eyes scanned the calligraphed letters with a sigh that slips passed your lips. You glance briefly at your fingers that held the paper. Your nails were painted a delicate shade of rosy pink, no signs of wear or age affected your hands.   
You shake your head, tendrils of hair hitting against your cheeks while your laid the latter and the envelope onto the table beside your almost finished plate of eggs and toast. You look up, the lean orange haired man relaxing in his seat. A piece of toast dangling from his lips while his fingers wrapped around the mornings newspaper.   
As if feeling your gaze, his blue-green eyes met yours, an eyebrow raising as if to ask if the letter were truly that bad. You nod, giving Armitage a little eyeroll. He smiles around the toast, folding the newspaper and setting it to the side, his slender hand reaching up to take the toast out of his mouth.   
“I do wish that I could come visit soon to receive a massage.” You mock with a small octave change to your voice with a laugh.   
A snort leaves Armitage as he turns away, his body shaking with a chuckle. “I don’t ever recall giving him a massage.” You laugh, eyes rolling back into your head. “He writes as if this is a business exchange and not a letter to his wife.”  
You shake your head again, picking up your last piece of toast and taking a bite from it. You would never be able to describe how empty the letters you received from Rodger made you feel. Your bones went cold thinking about him coming home. There was no way you could ever adjust to a life with him in it once more. And yet you knew that if he did come home to you, there would be no way that you could fully live a life without Armitage with you.   
“Darling?” Armitage asks, noticing how your expression had dropped slightly. “Is everything alright?”  
You look up, catching his eye. “Everything is fine.” You say, biting your toast once more.   
“Don’t fib to me.” He tells you, brows furrowing together.   
You sigh, setting the piece of toast down back onto your plate, thinking carefully on how to word what you were going to say. “I… don’t love my husband.”  
“So you’ve told me.” Armitage nods, watching you with vague worry.   
“I love you.” You tell him, seeing him nod again. You sigh, reaching up to push your hair away from your face. “Well. When Rodger sends his… Letters. They make me feel strange. Almost as if I have no emotions left in my body… Does that make sense?”  
Armitage ponders, leaning back to cross his legs. “His letters displease you.” He states, leaving you to nod.   
“Yes, in a way.” You respond. “I know I don’t love Rodger. But, I can’t help but be annoyed that he doesn’t put more effort into the letters that he sends me. He hasn’t seen me in so long, there’s no longing in his words. Nothing to truly show that we’re married. Does that sound silly?”  
“Yes, it does.” Armitage tells you with a chuckle. You watch him light a cigarette that he had pulled from a small container in his pocket. He inhales, sighing the smoke out with ease. “Would you like me to send you letters?”  
“Armitage, I’m with you all the time.” You tell him with a confused look “Why would you ever write letters to me?”  
“To let you anticipate our next meeting my dearest.” He chuckles, giving you a slow wink “I’ll make them naughty, enough so to get your panties wet.”  
“Armitage!” You exclaim with a giggle, a blush creeping over your skin. Embarrassed that the thought appealed to you.  
He stands, walking around the table to kneel beside you. “Would you like that?” He asks, taking a drag of his cigarette again while his hand trailed up your thigh and under your skirt. “Would you like to get letters detailing exactly what I’ll do to you that night?”  
You nod slowly, pursing your lips as his hand snapped the band of your underwear against your thigh. “Good. I’ll send you one weekly.”  
Your embarrassed frown turns into a small smile. “I love you Armitage.” You tell him, watching him place a kiss to your knee.   
“And I love you.” He responds, protesting when you take the cigarette from his fingers. You press the red tip to the cool ceramic of the ash try, putting it out.  
“That’s a horrible habit to keep, my darling.” You tell him, leaning in to kiss his cheek.   
“I’ll quit eventually.” He whispers, moving closer, neck straining in attempt to kiss you.   
You lean in again, placing your lips against his in a gentle kiss.   
~  
Each week you received a letter, each one somehow naughtier than the last. Each one made you blush and made your face hot with anticipation. You never knew that Armitage, your sweet Armitage could be as dirty as his letters. There were some occasions in which he would add a dirty limerick to the end of the letter – one that was designed to make you laugh.   
You found peace in each letter, allowing yourself for even the briefest moments to forget that Rodger had gone missing – and the fact that you had learned from his mother. Who had gotten the letter instead of you. His wife. It wasn’t that you cared about who received the letter, it was the fact that his mother showed up to your house and overstayed her welcome by hours.   
You were curled up on a seat in a small coffee shop, a tea in your hand and Armitage’s letter in your other, eyes grazing the newest words he had written for you. This one was particularly filthy, both of you knowing that you wouldn’t see each other for a few days due to how busy your week was. So many people to see and keep up the façade of grieving wife for.   
When you finished the letter and took the last sip of your tea, you set the teacup down. Raising to your feet. Your floral skirt shifted around your legs, and you ran your fingers down it quickly to smooth it out before reaching for your purse, folding the letter delicately and putting it into the bag beside your wallet.   
“Have a good evening miss!” The young boy behind the counter calls to you.   
You turn to him with a smile “And to you too Johnathan!” You say, turning towards the door. Shoes tapping on the tiled floor while you left the shop.   
You walked home slowly enjoying the view of the sunset over the city. While walking, you feel a stone wedge itself into your heel. But you were unable to remove the shoe to get rid of the rock without freezing your foot in the puddles that lined the cobblestoned street.   
Feeling the wind slowly picking up, you pulled the knitted sweater you were carrying, over your head, adjusting it around your torso. Your arms instinctively crossing over your chest to block the wind from getting to you.  
A man with a long pole with a hook on the end nodded to you.  
“Good evening ma’am” He says, pausing to light the street candle.  
“And to you sir” You say, giving a gentle smile, continuing on your way down the street, turning a corner, the wind becoming stronger as your began down the new street, less buildings there to block it from you.  
You kept your head down as you finished your walk, starting up the long driveway where you could already see your mother’s car sitting in front of your house.   
“Y/N!” You hear a voice, your name becoming lost in the wheezing wind that surrounded you.  
“Mama!” You call, hopping up the porch steps and embracing the heavyset woman in front of you.  
“Where have you been?” You sister asks, watching as you open the door before stepping in and wrapping her arms around you.  
“I’m so sorry” You flush “I was down at the post office in the coffee shop sending a letter again. Maybe this one will reach Rodger”  
“Oh darling” your mother gushes “How you must miss your husband”  
“You have no idea mama” You sigh, looking down and away. “I don’t know what to do with myself without him here”  
“You’re always welcome to visit the kids and I” Sarah says, kissing your cheek as she removes her coat and resting it on the hook beside the small hallway table.  
“How are the kids?” You ask, smiling at the thought of your small niece and nephews.  
“Growing like weeds!” Sarah gushes “Hannah lost her first tooth yesterday, and Jack has started school. We’re working on weaning Loren off of my breast”  
“How are they doing with their father back home?” Your mom asks, ushering the two of you into the parlor, helping herself into the kitchen to put a kettle on to boil.  
“They’re not quite sure what to do with him back full time.” She says, sitting delicately in a chair “Loren has almost no clue who his father is, and it’s been so long since Hannah has seen him that they have to work to develop a bond once more”  
“And Jack?” you inquire  
“Loves it” Sarah tells you, crossing her legs at the knee “I’ve never seen someone love their father as much as Jack loves Edward”  
“That’s darling” You say, smiling as your mother comes back into the room.  
“I wish Rodger had stayed long enough to give you a child” She says “It would have given you something to do while he was away”  
“I don’t think I would have enjoyed that.” You tell her honestly “With the stress of him being missing, I don’t think I would be able to properly take care of a child through my anxiousness and fear”  
“Oh yes” She sighs, “I’ve been speaking with his mother recently. They say they haven’t heard from you since Loraine came to visit with the news”  
“I don’t know what to say to them” You sigh “I become depressed every time that I’m there. All Loraine ever does is cry and read his old letters as if he’s dead and will never come back. I like to believe that he’s just missing. He’ll show up coming out of the distance with that handsome smile on his face eventually.”  
You hated lying like this, acting as if Rodger was the only thought that ever stayed in your head. Like he was the only man that you could ever picture beside you. As if you didn’t wish daily that the wedding portrait above the fireplace had a different man beside you.   
The night dragged on, even though you enjoyed the company of two females who were very close to you, you grew tired of talking about the war and gossiping about how a teenage relative was pregnant out of wedlock or how one of your aunts was sleeping with multiple men while her husband was across the country training new recruits.  
As you waved to them goodbye from the window, you closed the sheer curtains, reaching over to draw the thick ones over top. You turn, feet barely making a sound as you went up the stairs to the spare bedroom that you had taken over. You hadn’t slept in the master bedroom since Rodger had been deported.  
You push your skirt off your hips before unbuttoning your blouse. You set them in the small basket beside the dresser. You pull out a night gown, pulling it over your head before climbing into the small bed that rested in the middle of the room.   
~  
He walked into the house, body sore with the war he had faced. Horrors of death dancing in his eyes. The door had been locked, and he had seen no sign of you. There were no lights on, so he moved into the parlour, his body dropping into a chair that released a shield of dust when he hit the cushioned fabric.   
His eyes scan the dim room, the light fading from the sunset. Nothing had changed, you hadn’t moved anything around, nothing was added.   
The letters on the table made his assessing of the room pause, and he leans forward, bones popping with the movement. His fingers take hold of the letters, leaning his body back, one arm reaching out to turn on the small lamp beside him.   
The yellow light illuminated the area he rested in, his large hands sifting through the envelopes – not recognizing any of them as ones that he had sent to you. The envelopes were clean, pristine white. The address of the house written in neat, slightly slanted writing.   
These were not the dirt stained, sloppy writing letters that he had sent to you.  
He opens one of them, the neat writing consistent with the envelope.   
My dearest love,  
Your last letter has given me much to think about until our next meeting. I hope Sunday does well for you?   
I can’t wait to have you in my arms once more, to have your sweaty, withering body beneath mine. I’m going to take my time with you this week, I’m going to have you begging for me. Gasping for breath for what I’m going to do to you.  
The more he read, the more vulgar the words became. When his eyes hit the bottom of the page, his fingers tightened on the paper.  
Yours forever.  
There was no name signed, no return address.   
Each letter contained the same, no names written, no addresses other than yours on the envelope. He tried thinking that you were simply writing a naughty novel, but sending letters to yourself seemed unlikely. Useless in the process for writing.   
Were you pretending that these letters were from him? Was this your way of coping with the fact that he had been missing in action?   
Rodger set the letters down onto the table once more, looking to the window that covered most of the wall. The sun was set, and the night was fairly cloudy. And you weren’t home.   
No woman of your age should be out alone past dark.   
He stands, moving throughout the house to the kitchen, lazily making himself a cup of coffee. He was leaning against the counter, examining the most recent news paper when he heard the front door unlock.   
He could hear you speaking to someone.  
“Come in!” You say, laughing slightly “I’ll make you a tea, you deserve one after driving for so long today. Have a break before you head home.”  
Rodger was straining to hear the other person with you. Was it a man? Did you bring a man into his home?  
“Oh fine.” Came the reply. Sarah, he sighed. It was only your sister.   
He heard your footsteps coming to the kitchen. He set the paper down, watching the entryway closely as you came into view.   
You were exactly as he had pictured you the entire time he was gone. His eyes started from your flat clad feet, up the sheer panty-hose that you so often wore. You wore a dark blue dress, it clipped in at the waist, his eyes follow the buttons up your stomach to where the neckline accentuated your breasts.   
You were partially turned, speaking to Sarah with a permeant giggle. He watched your curls bounce when you turned to face the kitchen – face him.   
His eyes captured yours, his gaze taking in your pink cheeks and red lips.   
~  
You stopped. Dead in your tracks, Sarah bumping into you slightly.   
You were frozen, unable to choose between your instincts to run or your logic to return to your wifely duties. To greet your tall, dark, strapping husband who leaned against the counter in his uniform, a mug of coffee in his hand.   
“Rodger.” You whisper, trying to get your bearings.   
“Is that any way to greet your husband?” He asks, giving you a smile, even you could see it was slightly strained.   
Sarah falls quiet behind you as she looks at her brother in law with a grin. You feel her fingertips against your lower back, urging you forward.   
You stumble slightly, before walking slowly to your husband. Fingers touching his face the moment you were in reach. Real. This was real. “You’re here.” You whisper, examining his face “You’re here. You’re real.”  
Rodger nods, “Yes, I’m here. I’m real.” He tells you, his hands holding your waist. He firmly believed your shock was of happiness and not impending dread. His hands slide to your back, pulling you close to him. Against his neck, he could feel your tears begin. “It’s alright y/n, I will not leave again… We can start our family now.”  
You tremble as a sob wracks through you. Rodger holds you tighter, one hand holding your lower back as the other rests between your shoulder blades.   
“Should I leave to let you two catch up?” Sarah asks, watching you cry.  
You turn, shaking your head. “No, please don’t go.” Rodger, at the same time, says “Yes, we’ll catch up with you later.”  
You catch your sister’s eye, and she nods, moving into the kitchen to the kettle that sat on the stove. Her small hands wrap around the handle, walking to the sink to fill it up. “I can’t stay long, Edward has the kids, but I can stay for a tea.”  
You pull away from your husband, nodding. You reach around Rodger to grab two teacups, knowing that he hated tea and had his coffee anyways.   
Rodger watches each of your movements, how precise you are in avoiding being in arms length of him. You and Sarah make your teas, moving to the parlour, Rodger looming behind you before going to sit in his chair. You watch as he crosses his ankle over his knee, keeping his eye on you.   
You and Sarah sit on the love seat, beginning in on a small conversation, only Sarah tried to include Rodger into it. She often asked for his input, his opinion. The topic of the war or what had happened to him never once entered the conversation.   
You tried to smile at him, but even though you had never loved him, he was different. His face was hard, staring at the two of you. Examining you.   
It was quite a while before you realized the letters. They were resting on the table, all of them open and out of the envelopes. Rodger did not pretend to not see your reaction. He saw your face pale, the slight tremor of your hands that held the teacup. You in return, saw the malice that took over his face.  
It was then that Sarah declared that she should be heading home to her family. You nod, standing to say goodbye. You follow her to the front foyer, wrapping her in your arms.  
“Please come back with mama tomorrow.” You whisper, your voice shaking slightly.  
“Are you alright?” Sarah asks, concern lacing her features.  
“I don’t know.” You respond ever so quietly. “Just please, come back tomorrow.”  
“Does he hurt you?” She asks, her brows furrowing in deep worry.  
“He might.” You say, squeezing her once more before releasing her, Rodger wrapping an arm around her in an awkward goodbye. He had never liked Sarah.   
You step away from the two of them, watching Sarah slide on her coat before Rodger opened the door. She walks out, turning to blow a kiss to you, saying that she loves you.   
The door closes the moment she was on the porch.   
You stare at your husband, stared at him while he stared at the door. While his muscles tensed up. “Who is he?” He asks quietly… dangerously.   
“Who is who?” You ask, your voice small.  
“Don’t fuck with me y/n.” He growls. “Who is the man you’re seeing.”  
“I’m not seeing anyone.” You reply, stepping backwards. Closer to the parlour. To the stairs.   
Rodger spins on his heel, facing you. You suck in a breath, stepping back once more. His face was contorted with rage.   
“I was gone. Fighting for our country. For our future. And you go off to fuck another man.” He snaps, stepping towards you.  
“You were missing!” You gasp out, retreating through the parlour. “I thought you were dead!”  
He stalked you through the parlour, his eyes glancing at the letters for the briefest of moments before his eyes land once more on you, on your retreating form that was darting up the stairs.   
Fear raced through your veins as you gasped for breath. Your feet took you to the spare bedroom you had begun to call yours, the door slamming behind you. You turn quickly, turning the brass lock. When the click sounded, you backed towards the small balcony, hearing Rodger stomping through the upstairs, trying to see which room you had gone to.  
When he jiggled the doorknob, and you let out a small whimper.   
“Open the door y/n.” He orders. “I will not be locked out of anywhere in my own house.”  
“I don’t trust you.” You say, leaning against the wall, staring at the door in fear.   
“You don’t trust me? I don’t trust you. You slut.” He snaps at you, jiggling the doorknob again.   
You could hear a loud growl from him. “You are not welcome in this house any longer y/n.” He tells you, his voice quiet, yet it rang through your dark room. “I will not tolerate a disobedient wife. Either you submit, or I will speak to my lawyer in the morning for a divorce.”  
“I will not submit to someone who does not love me.” You say, your voice trembling.   
“And your other man loves you?” He asks with a dark laugh. “With a pussy like yours, he’s probably just using you.”  
“Like you’re using me for heirs?” You snap back, you hold your hands together, trying to get them to stop shaking. “I will not be used as a proud breeding mare.”  
“That’s exactly what a wife is for.” He tells you.   
“No! I am a human being.” You tell him, squeezing your hands tighter together. “And you’re nothing but a monster.”  
“You will be out of this house tomorrow night.” He snaps. There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of his footsteps stomping throughout the hallway. Followed closely by the slam of the master bedroom’s door.   
You tremble, letting out a relieved gasp.   
You shakily walk towards the closet, pulling out a small leather satchel you had once used for schooling. You were quiet as you moved throughout the room, finding your small prized possessions and putting them strategically into the bag. Every article of clothing that was folded and put into it was dirty from your basket. But dirty clothes were better than nothing.   
You set the satchel beside the door, changing into some cotton pajamas before climbing into the bed. You didn’t get to sleep that night.  
~  
In the morning, you were greeted to a loud knock on the front door, followed by two rings of the doorbell.   
You scrambled out of the bed, shaking as you changed into the same clothes from the day before, shoving the pajamas into the satchel.  
You slip on a pair of oxford shoes you had bought a while ago, lacing them up and standing. Your hands were trembling as you unlocked the door, picking up the satchel and exiting the room.   
You locked eyes with Rodger, colour draining from your face once more as you scurried down the stairs to the front door.   
You open it, revealing both Sarah and your mother, and a balding older man with a briefcase. Rodger’s lawyer.   
You usher them in, Sarah grabbing a hold of you. “Are you alright? Are you safe?” Your mother asks, her own hands holding yours.   
“He’s divorcing me.” You say quietly “Our marriage is over.”  
You mother stills, her eyes holding yours with a stern look on her face. “No one in our family has ever gotten a divorce.” She hisses. “The Bible does not believe in divorce.”  
“It’s happening.” You mummer, looking away from her.   
“What happened after I left?” Sarah urges.   
“He followed me through the house. He… He found letters from a man.” You say, shame filling your body.   
“What man?” You mother hisses, her grip tightening on your hands.   
“My…The man I love. He sends letters to me.” You whisper, not looking at the woman who birthed you.   
“Adulteress.” She hisses, her hands releasing yours, as if your hands burned her. “He has every right to divorce you.”  
You nod, knowing that your mother would never come around. You eyes find your sister, who was staring at the small table with a vase on it. A wedding gift she had given to you, yet it had never actually held flowers.   
Rodger had already begun to speak to the lawyer, and you followed his voice to the parlour, a folder open to show the already made documents.  
“I don’t want anything.” You say when you hear the topic of splitting assets. “Not the house. Not the money. I don’t want anything.”  
“If you don’t split the money… You won’t be able to live.” Sarah whispers from behind you.  
“I’ll be fine.” You respond, unable to look at her. “Just tell me where to sign, and I’ll be on my way.”  
You could hear your mother behind you muttering to herself on how you were disgracing the family. How she’d never get over the shame from this. How did she end up with a daughter like you.   
“I just need your signature here.” The man says, handing you a heavy pen.   
You see where he points, and you sign neatly. Setting the pen down and looking to Rodger. “You deserve better than a rushed marriage. Pick who you marry next, don’t let your mama pick her. I wish you the best.”  
You turn, returning to the foyer and grabbing the strap of the satchel. You glance to your mother.  
“You are not welcome.” She answers your unasked question, and you nod.   
Sarah lets out a little whimper as she watches you walk out the front door, leaving the heavy red wood open as the screen door slams shut behind you.   
Your shoes dig into the gravel of the driveway, and then clacking loudly on the cobblestone.   
You didn’t look back while you walked. You didn’t need to. There was nothing there for you. The only thing you were losing was your best friend. Sarah, you knew she was devastated right now. But life is life.   
~  
You follow along the familiar pathway into the city’s core. It was early, most shops weren’t open yet. But the bakeries were already making their day’s worth of goods. The scent bled out into the street, leaving you with your stomach rumbling.   
You arrive at Clockworks. You let out a shaky breath, following the alley to the back stairs that led up to the apartment. You walk up slowly, grabbing the key out of the pocket of your coat to unlock the door.   
As you entered the apartment, the small blur of orange darted to you, rubbing herself against your ankles.   
“hello sweet Milly.” You say softly, setting your bag down to pick her up, toeing off your shoes and walking into the kitchen. Her nose was in her fur, and you set her on the counter for a moment to fill up her food dish.  
Setting it on the counter beside her, you scratch behind her ear with a sigh. You hoped that Armitage loved you enough to let you stay here.   
Pushing yourself away from the counter, you set a full kettle on the stove, preparing a tea for both you and the sleeping man down the hall. You lift the mugs up, your footsteps silent on the hardwood as you walked to Armitage’s room.   
You use your hip to push the door open, walking into the dark room and using your memory to find the night table to put the mugs down. Armitage stirred at the sound, and you look over to your lover.  
His hair was very rarely disheveled, he was rarely ever so peaceful. But while he slept, he looked at least ten years younger.   
You moved around to the window, opening the curtains to let in the morning sun. You hear a small grunt from behind you. “Y/N?” his groggy voice mumbles.   
“It’s me.” You confirm, walking over to the bed to kneel on it.   
“What time is it?” He asks quietly, releasing a yawn that he hid into the pillow.   
“Just before seven.” You reply, crossing your legs on the bed before reaching over to grab your tea. “I made you a drink.”  
He mumbles a thank you, peeking over to you with half closed eyes. “What are you doing here?” He asks you.   
“Rodger came home yesterday.” You say quietly.   
You could feel Armitage stiffen beside you. And you didn’t have to look over to know that he had sat up. “What happened?” He asks, fear hitting him slightly. Were you here to say goodbye?  
“We signed the divorce papers before I left this morning.” You tell him, taking a long sip of your scalding drink. Burning your tongue in the process.   
“You divorced him?” Armitage asks, moving closer to you.   
“He divorced me.” You correct. You turn to face him. “He saw your letters. He was furious and got his lawyer to come first thing today.”  
“Darling –“ He starts.  
“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry.” You say with the smallest of smiles. “I’m a free woman Armitage. I’m a free, single woman.   
The concept hit him full on. His eyes lock with yours as a grin overtakes his lips. “I can court you – properly.” He says, as if to confirm what you were saying to him.  
“Yes.” You giggle.   
Armitage moves closer, any sign of being tired had faded, and his lips were on yours.   
You adjust, setting your mug on the table as he moved you, resting over you as you laid on your back, the sheet and blanket now resting over you. Your right leg was bent at the knee beside him as he peppered your face with feather light kisses.   
Giggles slipped past your lips, Armitage’s hand trailing up your side, gripping your wrinkled blouse in his fingers.   
When he kissed your lips, you reached up to tangle your fingers in his tresses. Only for the alarm clock on the table to blare out.   
Armitage lets out a grumble, pushing himself up onto his knees. His eyes find yours, and he’s sure you’ve never looked more beautiful.   
“Work with me today?” He asks, and once he sees you nod, he gets off the bed, holding his hand out for you to grab.   
You take it, letting him help you up off the bed. You tugs you towards him when your feet his the floor, and you stumble into him with a laugh.   
His arm is around you as he brings you in for a kiss once more.   
“I love you.” He whispers to you.

 

~ 1 year later ~  
The light of the bright autumn morning shown into the windows of the courthouse. The candles around not needing to be lit. The minister before you holding a bible and a list of vows.   
You stood on a small dais, holding the hands of Armitage Hux.   
Your left hand held a beautiful gold band of small pearls, another band above it with a tear shaped diamond that hit your knuckle occasionally.   
You look up to Armitage, giving him a smile as you recited your vows.   
No one sat in the few pews in the room, other than another couple who was also there to get married right after you. You had spoken with them briefly, had enjoyed the woman’s excitement of finally being able to get married – even at her older age.   
She was in a much fancier outfit than you. An actual wedding gown with a long train and a veil. Much more like the dress you wore for your wedding to Rodger. So much unlike your calve-length white dress. You wore a small, cropped blazer with it and cream coloured heels. Your hair was curled and you had a string of pearls around your neck. A thin banded, small faced watch was wrapped around your wrist.   
A small wedding gift from Armitage. He had even gone so far as to engrave it for you.   
You smile grew as Armitage started to recite his own vows, ending them with the strongest of I do’s. He pulled you close when the minister announced that he could kiss you.   
His lips were ever soft against yours, and your let out a gentle sigh into the kiss. You could hear the chuckle from your husband.  
Your husband.   
You were beaming when you pulled away from him, following the guide of the minister to a small table where a marriage certificate rested with a pen.   
“We’re married.” Armitage whispers breathlessly as he signed his name.  
“We’re married.” You confirm with a giggle, signing your own name onto the paper.   
You watch as the minister also signed, lifting it up to hand to you.  
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Armitage Hux.” He tells you, smiling as you kiss your husband’s cheek.   
You could hear clapping from behind you, and you wave at the other couple. Armitage takes your hand, walking with you down the small aisle, wishing good luck to the woman and her fiancée before leaving the courthouse.   
The warmth of the day hit your skin, along with the gentlest of breezes.   
You look at Armitage, grinning. “What now?” You ask, squeezing his hand.   
“Lunch could be a start.” He laughs to you, leaning in to kiss your cheek as you walk down the steps of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my tumblr to see more of my works! @ Rosalynbair


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